


in oblivion there is no wish unfulfilled

by yrmmbggy



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lost Love, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Love, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yrmmbggy/pseuds/yrmmbggy
Summary: This was the problem with immortality; your memory fades and so does your character- you are forced to reinvent yourself even if you don’t want to.—Nathan spots a man in a bar and remembers.





	in oblivion there is no wish unfulfilled

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I whipped this up quickly because I had a thought about what would happen if Nathan never sold his power and grew older and older, forgetting everything in his past. Naturally, I had to include romance.
> 
> I’m working on about five things at once at the moment, which is why I’ve been MIA, but that also means new shit soon (hopefully).  
I almost feel obliged to post shit because this fandom seems like it’s dying out and that’s the last thing that I want.
> 
> Sorry it’s short and a little bit messy, but I hope it tides you over during this drought of fics 
> 
> (Title is from an H. P Lovecraft quote)

Nathan lost count of how old he was around his 247th birthday; it became too much work and he had begun to forget when his birthday was. Not near Christmas, he knows that much, and of course he remembers Christmas because people have been remembering it for thousands of years- that bloody book is still floating around after all.

He doesn’t remember much past the last 150 odd years if he’s honest, just the occasional flash here and there which ultimately does nothing but confuse him further.

Here’s what Nathan knows:

1\. He’s immortal, obviously

2\. His mum’s name was Louise. He’s honestly shocked that it has stuck with him after all this time, but he supposes that it’s hard to forget the name of the woman that had raised you. He can’t for the life of him recall her face, though he does remember holding her hand as the last remnants of her life ebbed away. How long ago that had been is a mystery to him.

3\. He’s claustrophobic, but he doesn’t know why.

Here’s what Nathan thinks he knows:

1\. There used to be photos of his past, but he hasn’t seen them in a century or two, if they even existed that is. He seems to remember a fire.

  
2\. He had had friends. Of course he had _friends_, but these ones that he barely recalled seemed different, almost as if they had been through some life changing shit together. He doesn’t remember their names or faces- doubts he ever will- but there’s this kind of gut feeling he’ll get, accompanied by flashes: thick eyeliner around unrecognisable eyes, a cross on a chain, tight, dark coils of hair and...something about melons? But then they’d disappear just as quickly as they appeared and he’s left wondering how he even got this stupid power in the first place, an inexplicable, achingly _lonely_ feeling pooling in his stomach.

3\. He had killed before. He figures this because during his brief stint as an arms dealer a decade or two ago, he got into a bit of trouble with a nasty fella and was forced to shoot him point blank in the skull, between the eyes. It freaked him out, sure, but the cunt had locked him in the boot of a car so he felt it was deserved. The sight of the blood triggered something in him though, and he could suddenly hide the body somewhere and remain inconspicuous no bother, which he was sure he couldn’t do the day before.

This was the problem with immortality; your memory fades and so does your character- you are forced to reinvent yourself even if you don’t want to.

The upside of immortality however, is that trauma only tends to stick around for the first couple hundred years. Nathan knows he experienced things that had fucked him up for a long time, he can feel it at the base of his spine, but now it all feels like someone else’s memories that aren’t quite coherent.

Nathan remembers fruitlessly that he had found a cure for immortality once, and cursed the fact that he had forgotten what it was.

Sure, he had experienced a lot in his years of being alive. He had dabbled in modelling, stripping and prostitution, had worked for mafia leaders and drug cartels, had fucked Norwegian supermodels (boys, girls, both at the same time), had killed himself, been killed. He remembers falling into love and out of it and, Christ, this was all just in the century and a half! Who knows what else he got up to?

He also remembers settling down at one point, half a century ago perhaps- he had a wife with a kid on the way- but a snippet of a far away conversation had caused a bitter, regretful taste in his mouth and he ran for the hills.

_“– day we’ll have a house together?”  
“Oh Yeah? And a wee-un and a dog called spot and–?“_

And that same hopeful, familiar voice from that same far away conversation had suddenly surged forward and was knocking about in his brain right now, like a pinball machine, because he had spotted a guy sitting at the bar and suddenly a whole bunch of flashes came tumbling together.

There was some sort of clothing-– orange jumpsuits? And there had been four-– no, five!-– five of them. And some word beginning with A...A...S? AS-something. And he remembers something in the sky, bright and crackling...a storm! And then he feels something shoot down his back, like he’s remembering the feeling of something. Being struck by lightning, maybe? And then he’s locking eyes with the bar bloke- who gives him a smile- and suddenly a whole new set of flashes come to him, more intimate this time, so much so that they almost make Nathan’s toes curl.

There’s a different version of the same smile, chuckling at him as they lay horizontally. Then there’s eyes, wide and startled, and hands roaming down him, which sends shivers throughout his body like they’re on him now. There’s a quick flash of a tattoo, and then a ring, and then two hands clasping, one old and wrinkled, one young and smooth. A somewhat familiar song plays in his head- one he can’t put his finger on, mind- that speaks about dancing and guilty feet.

The bloke inches closer to Nathan and he gets the sudden feeling that he’s _familiar_. The feeling that, if he doesn’t introduce himself now, he’ll regret it.

“Nathan.” He said, closing the distance between them by sliding along the bar. _He is proper handsome_, he thinks to himself. The pale, porcelain skin contrasted by the dark hair, the stare-y grey eyes, the sharp jawline jutting out profusely. He’s like...

_Like a shark_, he thinks with a smirk.

The bloke smiles at him again.

“Barry.”


End file.
